


Sweet Treats

by Nicxan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Baking, Bonding, Gen, Other, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: Tor, one of the many kitchen ghouls in the abbey, is called upon one Valentine's morning to help Papa Emeritus II bake.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus II/Sibling(s) of Sin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Sweet Treats

**Author's Note:**

> Another one for the Bingo event! This is _Cooking/Baking Together_. 
> 
> Enjoy! :3

It was going to be a busy, busy day.    
  
Tor, thankfully, didn’t have any events to look forward to. He never did make plans for Valentine’s Day -- it was always hectic. Frankly, he was needed in the kitchen -- not that he minded that much. Cooking was his first love, and what better day to show love to it? Other ghouls could stare funny if they wanted; Tor knew what made him happy.   
  
While he was already excited for the day, that increased tenfold upon receiving a handwritten letter from Secondo himself. Once he was done bouncing around his room in glee, he began to get ready. His bulkier, muscular frame made it so that he needed a larger chef’s jacket and trousers, and it was still a bit of a struggle to get them on. One of these days, he’d really need to ask for a different uniform.    
  
He checked his appearance in the mirror. Gray skin was clear of flour, as was the uniform. His Era Three mask was on straight, the buttons were aligned right ... excellent. These were the standards that the abbey would expect of anyone in the kitchen; he wasn’t going to let them down. Once he was satisfied, Tor bounded out of the room, tail swishing behind him in excitement.   
  
Valentine’s Day was already going to be chaotic, but this was going to be a  _ different _ kind of chaotic. What made it even better was that he was actually going to have some experienced help! Tor could learn from them! He wasn’t the only talented chef in the abbey, and he definitely wasn’t the most skilled. That title went to Secondo.   
  
Secondo had a reputation: most called him a tyrant in the kitchen, but others called him a genius. Tor was sure that there was a kernel of truth in both interpretations. There usually was. But as long as Secondo showed respect to him, he didn’t mind. It was two experts in the kitchen. What could go wrong?   
  
The one thing Tor hated about his living arrangements was that it was such a long, long walk from the dining hall and its connected kitchen. It took about ten minutes to get there, and that was when he rushed. Any attempts to get a closer room had been met with a handwave, mostly because he managed to get there on time anyway.    
  
Damn it all.    
  
If nothing else, the short morning walks gave Tor a bit of time to take in the atmosphere. There was something calming about walking through the abbey when it was nearly empty. The rising sun always made the stained glass look absolutely stunning, and the way it reflected against the tiled floor was nothing short of awe-inspiring.   
  
Tor glanced at a flushed, very unkempt couple that were rushing through the hall, giggling at themselves and their situation. The ghoul’s tail flickered side to side, and the human’s eyes shone with affection. He couldn’t help but smile under his mask. Young love always made him feel giddy; it was just so pure and wholesome. Hopefully that pair would have a happy Valentine’s.   
  
The thought faded into the background when Tor reached the kitchen doors. The lights were already on -- a rarity. Nerves began to creep back up, and the knot in his stomach only tightened.    
  
He was cooking with Secondo today. There was no avoiding it, no wiggling around it, and no way to switch roles with someone else. Not that he wanted to anyway, but still -- the notion was daunting. This was the day to know if he was really as good as other people said he was.    
  
Tor tilted his head, stood up straight, and opened the doors confidently.    
  
There was a moment of panic when he saw things in use. The tools were normally put away neatly, with all the bowls and utensils set up in the perfect way. To see them out and being used was so foreign to Tor, so much so that he froze on the spot.    
  
Then, he registered Secondo working behind the line. Tor instantly relaxed, letting his tail sway lazily.    
  
Tor waved a greeting.   
  
Secondo looked up. He was in a plain shirt, with an apron and his least favorite pair of pants. What was shocking, though, was that he hadn’t bothered with his sunglasses; his piercing, soul-searching stare was directed at Tor. It was just as terrifying as everyone said it was.    
  
“You’re late,” he said simply. “I summoned you twenty minutes ago.”   
  
Tor had no idea if Secondo could understand sign language. Being mute made it so that he had to communicate via gestures, stomps, and clicks -- but maybe he could avoid all that? There was only one way to find out.    
  
He began to rapidly sign.  _ “I apologize, sir.” _ Tor’s hands trembled.  _ “I was getting ready and had to walk here.” _   
  
“... And that takes twenty minutes?” Secondo asked, raising an eyebrow. Tor must have stared in shock for a moment, because he then spoke again. “Yes, I understand sign language. I’m assuming you can’t hear me.”   
  
Tor nodded eagerly, signifying that he could. Just to be safe, he also signed ‘yes.’   
  
“Good. Now get behind the line like you should have ten minutes ago.”   
  
Tor saluted, then rushed behind said line. He took a moment to examine what, exactly, Secondo was preparing. The quicker he figured that out, the quicker he could help. And Secondo had made it clear that he didn’t like waiting.    
  
It was pretty clear that multiple things were going on. Tor leaned down and sniffed carefully. One mixing bowl had cake batter, and the copious amounts of dough on the counter was extremely thin and multilayered -- probably Danish pastries in the works. Best to check with Secondo first, though.    
  
_ “Danish pastries?” _ Tor signed. He then pointed to the thin pastry.    
  
“Hm. You’re quick.” Secondo nodded, then resumed mixing the cake batter. “Yes. The shaping needs to be done. I want diamonds. So get to work on that.”    
  
Tor nodded in affirmation, then did as he was told: he got right to work.    
  
His thicker fingers made the more delicate pastry work a bit difficult. But practice made near-perfect, and this was no exception. Once Tor got into the rhythm of things, he was making absolutely perfect diamond-shaped Danish pastries. The pastry itself was exceptionally well-made, which was no surprise. It was Secondo’s, after all.    
  
After a while, Tor felt Secondo’s eyes on him. He felt that intensify, and before long, Secondo was peering over his shoulder. Tor had never felt so terrified in his entire life, but he didn’t stop folding the pastry into Secondo’s desired shape. Sure, he was trembling on the inside in utter fear, but he wasn’t going to let that show.    
  
“... Tighten up that one’s corners.” He gestured to one of the Danish pastries in the middle.    
  
It was the only feedback he got, but if that was the worst Secondo could say, then Tor felt like he was doing a good job. Tor, once again, nodded. Then, he went immediately to fix up the corners of that one pastry.    
  
Working alongside Secondo was ... interesting. Secondo took this incredibly seriously -- it showed in the way that he put things together. He was meticulous, measuring everything at least twice. And when he mixed things in, it was almost a work of art with how he added things into the batter. Tor could watch the man work all day.    
  
But he also didn’t want to get his head ripped off, so, instead, he just finished up folding the pastries. Once they were done, Tor signaled for Secondo to come look. He did so, eyes narrowed, one arm stroking his chin.    
  
Tor had never been so scared of an evaluation in his entire life. He was going to have a heart attack at this rate.   
  
“... Good.”    
  
That one word had never sounded so sweet to Tor’s ears. He visibly relaxed as he offered a thumbs-up.    
  
“Now. Get the strawberries and the blueberries out of the fridge. You’re going to be making the jams.” Secondo met Tor’s eyes, looking stern as ever. “These are for treasured Siblings of Sin, so don’t you dare make any mistakes.”    
  
Tor had never been so conflicted in his life. On one hand, that last sentence proved that Secondo cared deeply about his harem -- something many people outside of it doubted. Tor found that incredibly sweet. But on the other hand, the pressure of making no mistakes? Utterly horrifying. So much for relaxing!    
  
Still, he refused to complain. Instead, Tor saluted, then made his way to the fridge. The berries were easy to find, and he grabbed the freshest ones from the back. Nothing else would do for Secondo and he knew it.    
  
He spared a glance at Secondo while shutting the fridge door. Secondo had put baking beads in the middle of the Danish pastries before putting them in the oven. The timer was set with quick precision -- was Secondo always that quick with his hands? No wonder he was so popular with the Siblings.   
  
“Staring at me will get you nowhere. Get to work.”   
  
... Oops. Tor thought he was being subtle, but apparently not so much. A part of him knew it would be best to be quiet, but he just couldn’t help himself. Tor set down the berries, opened the boxes, then began to sign.    
  
_ “I apologise,” _ he signed one more.  _ “I just get really happy when I see people skilled in the kitchen!” _   
  
“Good for you.”    
  
Tor persisted just a little more.  _ “I was really excited to work with you. It’s nice to learn.”  _   
  
“You’ll learn better if you stop kissing my ass.”   
  
Well, Secondo got him there. He’d hardly call telling the truth ass-kissing, but maybe that was something Secondo got a lot. Tor shrugged, then got to work making the separate jams. All he needed was two bowls, some sugar, and his own hands -- and he would make good use of all of it.    
  
Tor added the strawberries to the bowl, the sugar, and then began to mash it all together. His thicker hands were useful here, and it didn’t take long for the jam to be ready for boiling. As soon as he washed his hands thoroughly, Tor did the same with the blueberries.    
  
“Most people use the  _ tools _ in the kitchen rather than their hands,” Secondo said pointedly at one point. Tor brushed it off, swaying his tail happily. This was a great stress relief, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t clean! It would be just as good this way.    
  
_ “You’ve eaten what I’ve made before with no complaints. And I made it this way,” _ Tor signed once he washed his hands once more. While he would respect Secondo, he wouldn’t respect being told how to do his job.   
  
Secondo glared at him for a moment, sighed, and then shook his head. “Fine, then.”    
  
That was as close as Tor would get to an apology, and he’d take it quite happily. Tor grinned, then set up the jam base to boil for twenty minutes. That would time up well with the pastries coming out of the oven. If this is what he’d have to do this morning, then he was completely fine with that.    
  
“Fold more of the pastries,” Secondo commanded. “The current batch doesn’t have long to go. I want to keep something in the oven at all times.”   
  
_ “Understood.”  _   
  
Tor wasn’t aware that more dough had been set up, but hey, he wasn’t going to complain. It’d be easy to watch the clock while folding more Danish pastries into diamonds --   
  
“Square shaped corners with a bit of flair for these.”    
  
Well, okay, then. Tor quickly undid what he had done, then started to fold the pastries into four-pointed stars. Five-pointed would be impossible; hopefully, Secondo knew that.    
  
He wanted to ask  _ what _ was going to  _ who _ so badly. What did the shapes mean? Did specific Siblings get specific shapes for any particular reason? Secondo wouldn’t tell, he knew, but he could definitely ask about the cake.    
  
_ “What will I need to do for the --” _   
  
“You’re here to work on pastries. That’s it,” Secondo cut in. “I will handle the cake. It’s too important to mess up.”   
  
Tor felt a brief offense at the implication that he would mess up a cake. But Secondo was a picky, picky man with his cakes -- and they were absolute infernal pleasures as a result. Everyone sang praises about Secondo’s cakes. Whoever was going to get this one was a lucky, lucky person.   
  
That cake wasn’t for him, though. Secondo had made that especially clear. So he just went back to the pastries, keeping an eye on the clock for the jam. After he folded about ten more, he should be able to pull that off of the stove, then ...    
  
He heard another oven door open. Secondo placed the cake batter in there. When he had put it in a pan, Tor had no idea. That was the consequence of being wrapped up in his work, he guessed. He took a deep whiff of the air, sighing happily at the scents of baking. The kitchen had never smelled better than this.   
  
“Pastries are out of the oven,” Secondo called. “Is that jam ready?”    
  
Tor paused his folding and quickly checked the jam. While the clock had three minutes on it, it did look ready. He took two spoons and stirred the jam briefly. Then, he got a spoonful of each, and brought them to Secondo. If he approved, then, well, perfect. If not, he’d just have to do better next time.    
  
If he was allowed a next time, that is.    
  
Secondo took the spoon of strawberry jam, then tasted it. Tor watched in silent terror, tail as still as could be. Did he like it? Did it meet his ridiculously high standards? What if --    
  
“Good. Get it off of the stove and I’ll put it in the middle of the pastries.”    
  
Oh thank Lucifer below in Hell. Tor nodded, then rushed to do as instructed. He grabbed the pans and set them next to the oven with the Danish pastries in it, then went back to work on folding.    
  
It went like this for a while: Tor folded pastries, Secondo would put them in the oven, Tor would make the jam, and Secondo would pull out the pastries and put the jam in the middle. Sometimes Secondo would be interrupted by working on the cake, but Tor could manage things by himself for a while as needed. Bakers needed to be able to multitask, after all.   
  
Once in a while, though, Tor had to look at that cake. Secondo had made an orange buttercream frosting for it, which was Tor’s favorite flavor. His mouth watered as he spied Secondo spreading the frosting over the dark chocolate cake. It smelled absolutely wonderful.    
  
“This is the last batch of Danish pastries.”   
  
_ ‘Finally!’ _ Tor thought. It had been hours since they’d started, and Tor was starting to get sick of Danish pastries. He never thought that he’d be sick of them, but here he was. Working on them all morning and some of the afternoon would do that to a ghoul. The announcement kicked Tor back into full throttle -- he began to fold the last batch of dough into square shapes.   
  
When he was done folding and was able to push them into the oven, he let out a sigh of relief. That was that! Now to do one final batch of jam. He’d need to wash his chef’s outfit once this was all over, with all the fruit and sugar that got on it. The thought came and went, and he put his all into this last batch.    
  
Secondo, on the other hand, was focusing on polishing off the cake. His mouth was in a thin line as he dusted some kind of powder on top -- chocolate? -- and decorated with some icing. What kind, Tor couldn’t tell, but the pattern was so intricate and detailed.    
  
... He really needed to stop focusing on that cake. But now that the fruit and sugar were mashed one last time and put on the stove, he had nothing to do. Well, that wasn’t entirely true -- Tor could clean up.   
  
And that’s what he did.    
  
Tor wiped down the counter, wiping off the sugar, dough particles, and other miscellaneous things that wound up on there somehow. He cleaned out some of the pans that had been used, the mixing bowls ... everything. He also kept an eye on the timer for the jam.    
  
“... Last batch is out. Jam.”    
  
Tor’s ears perked up. He rushed to the stove for the final time, taking off the last pans of jam. He brought them to Secondo, set them down, and took a few steps back. Now he could actually watch the master work! Tor got to see how Secondo laid out the jam, how he kept it in the middle without it overflowing. Even all the portions were equal -- and he did it so easily!   
  
His tail swished in excitement, and his hands were clasped together in awe. Seeing him work was inspiring. Secondo was so precise! And never mind the detailed work on the cake. Tor could stare at that cake all day.    
  
“... And it’s done.”   
  
Both of them heaved a heavy, relieved sigh. Sure, both of them loved cooking and baking. But being finished with a big job? There wasn’t anything else like it. They both stood there for a moment, enjoying the fruits of their collected labor.    
  
Then, Secondo turned to Tor. Tor waited for him to be dismissed, or maybe berate him for not working fast enough. He had been a hardass for the whole day, after all.    
  
What he got instead surprised him.   
  
“Your reputation is not unfounded.” Secondo extended his hand. “Good work, Tor.”   
  
Tor was stunned. So stunned that he just reached out and took Secondo’s hand and shook it firmly.    
  
“My Siblings of Sin deserve nothing but the best,” Secondo continued. “And I know that we have given them that. They’ll be grateful.” He nodded, which Tor returned.    
  
_ “Thank you.” _ Tor’s hands trembled.  _ “That means a lot to me.” _   
  
“I don’t give compliments unless they’re deserved.” Secondo jerked his head over to the cake. “Now take your reward and go. Others will handle the wrapping.”   
  
... Reward? The cake was Tor’s  _ reward? _ Tor stood there, gobsmacked, unable to even comprehend the idea of that. He just pointed to the cake, then back at himself.    
  
“Yes. Take it before I change my mind and make you work this evening, too.”    
  
Tor was wondering why the cake was in its own container. But that would explain it, at least.    
  
Hiding his excitement was impossible, so he didn’t try. Tor bowed his head in a modest thanks, grabbed the cake and a fork, and hightailed it out of the kitchen. The last thing he wanted was for Secondo to make good on his threat. He’d have a cake made by Secondo -- it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.    
  
He basically skipped back to his room, not caring about the weird stares he got. If they wanted to stare, let them!  _ They _ weren’t taking a whole cake made by Secondo back to their room. They wouldn’t get the utter joy that he felt.   
  
The door opened with a quiet creak. Tor rushed inside and locked it behind him.    
  
He had a date with the best cake he would ever eat, and he wasn’t going to wait around.


End file.
